


Vigil

by Fenyatta



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Ancient Elves (Dragon Age), Arlathan, Dragon Age Spoilers, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Elvhenan, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-02-08 17:18:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12869319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fenyatta/pseuds/Fenyatta
Summary: The fall of Arlathan was more than the fault of one man. Others had a part to play.





	1. An Explanation

They say that kings have thrones. 

That they must rule over a domain for them to truly be who they are - lest they be a pretender to be mocked.

But what do you call the domain of a dead king, where his land is no longer under any distinct rule?

To go from being a god of his realm to losing it to a ‘Maker’. 

I sit on my patron’s broken throne. 

He is gone, as are the others in the broken beyond of the Fade. He was the one that mattered to me - as a disciple, to have that ability to claim it as such. 

As a disciple - as His disciple - I will watch and wait for His return.

But I do not relish the thought of it.

He would not appreciate the desecration of His temple, the loss of His acolytes - the part I played in the way he had been sealed away. 

Yet to the People now - He is a tale told by hearths on long evenings, the benevolent god of a bygone age that watches from beyond the veil. They pray to Him and the others, begging for salvation and restitution for what humans had done. 

They are so young as to have not seen the scorn He wrought the others, the warfare, the destruction from their fights. The arguments that shook the heavens, while I and the others of my kith below waited to see if we would be forced into the onslaught - or simply console Him in the aftermath.

I have seen it all from His throne. 

I have seen millennia pass from my own waking dreams. I have seen empires come to life in the wake of the destruction of my people, ending the way that they all do. 

Men rise, men gain power, and men fall.

Repeat.

I do not take pride in what happened in the Fall, but I will honor my part in it. What I had contributed in the Fall of Elvhenan is my own piece of the chaos, and I have come to accept the judgement I am due - be it my patron who judges me or the People of this age.

Yet I know, in my heart - there is hope. 

Hope perhaps not that He will return with the other gods, but hope that my part is not over yet.

That I still have a responsibility.

I am Vigilance. 

And I will wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> W-ELL OKAY I decided to post this one a little out of left field, considering that I tenatively have an idea of what I want to write with this. And yes, this chapter is intentionally left short. It's a prologue, not a novella.
> 
> I need a break from FiGG because I'm not a fan how one of my chapters I haven't posted yet turned out, so writing some 1st person POV should help break up the monotony that is Sa'lyn going staby-stab and poor Cullen being mildly oblivious. I'm not abandoning FiGG ofc - I just need to write something off the record with it.
> 
> For all intents and purposes - Vigil is *my* telling of what happened during the fall of Arlathan. If Bioware throws out DA4 tomorrow and say "WRONG", I might rewrite it. But until then, this is my telling. It falls in line with my canon, and as such it turns up (and will turn up) in my other pieces I have written and plan on writing to post here. So characters will be making showcases and comebacks.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. ;* ♡ I love comments and messages, so drop me a line if you have questions!!


	2. Where Once Stood

Iothra had once said I was inevitably drawn to the shadows just as she was. 

Yet in irony, she was the disciple of Dirthamen, whereas I pledged my allegiance to Falon’din.

It was a coy methodology. We held no malice against one another with regards to our patrons. It was our way of existing - as identical down to our nerves and gestures.

Always a parallel. We were drawn to each other, a current that channeled into and from the other. From our beginning, we existed as such. The other’s start, the other’s end. 

It is laughable, considering an end to an existence. I had passed several of my brethren into Uthenera. It was a phase of life. Never an end. 

It was always thought - even when the shemlen came - that it would be this. Day and night bleeding into one another as the ocean did with the sky, endless as the horizon. 

We were _proud_. I was - of my standing, of my parallel. The societal bickerings and petty toils were my way of living. Wars - yes. We had them. But when it is a way of life, do you expect any different?

Do you expect anything besides the turmoil between peace and destruction, watching war wage and participating in it yourself?

I expected nothing else. I had nothing to expect. 

It was how we were. 

And - let them praise me or curse me - how they always wanted us to be. Vying for more, consuming and constructing to be better than the others.

We could be considered akin to the humans of the north with their decorum. 

However, this was before our plight. Our mistakes. Our destruction.

Throughout the misgivings, we had done wrong upon ourselves - but I will not bore you with the regrets of a disciple. 

I will tell you the truth.


End file.
